And Then
by kazakichik
Summary: They met. They talked. They fell in love. And then things happened. My version and twist of the movie. Rated T for now. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

Lisa Reisert stared at the droplets of rain as they rolled down the Taxi's window, silently wishing she could stretch and fall asleep. They represented everything she was: sad, lost in a sea of commonness, luminescent, bending. She was surprised she hadn't fallen over from exhaustion already. The last couple of weeks had been hell; absolute, abject, hell.

On top of her grandmother's funeral, advising her frantic in command, getting scalded by cheap coffee, and an encounter with a pushy executive, she had experienced a near nervous breakdown; she was ready to pass out. It was uncharacteristic.

And then she met him. It shocked her how much attraction she felt towards the handsome stranger with striking blue eyes. Intelligent, kind, handsome; he was everything she looked for in a man. Or at least he was everything she _had _looked for in a man, until two years ago.

So when he asked her to join him for a drink, she was even more shocked at her inability to accept, let alone think up a decent excuse.

His eyes had shown his disappointment. It was endearing.

Then she saw him at the bar. Her heart somehow went out to him. There he was, sitting perfectly alone, just as she was, looking extremely bored. Oh, how she ached to relieve him of being alone.

Soon she found her feet walking to the stool next to him; her body sliding into the seat. They exchanged polite, if somewhat personal, conversation. The only thing marring the picture was his dead-on guess of her choice of drink and comment on the demise of his parents. Ninety minutes they spent, talking. Soon, the flight was announced.

She walked resolutely to the entrance, somewhat distressed that she would more than likely never see him again.

Seeing him in the seat next to her assigned one was like a ray of hope. It scared her. It scared her to the point of creating a strong desire to run.

Against her wishes, she hoped he felt the same way, even if to a lesser degree. What she didn't know, was that his feelings exceeded her own.

Chit-chat commenced again. All was well. Her heart hammered in her chest every time he glanced her way. She noticed everything: the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, the way he contemplated whatever he happened to be looking at, and the way he leaned toward her when he couldn't quite catch what she was saying, instead of telling her to speak up.

Somehow, she found herself in the tiny bathroom, wrapped in his arms, body flush against his. It felt like breathing; coming up for air.

They walked out, hand in hand, back to their seats. They sat facing each other, talking some more. Then he glanced at his watch; his expression changed. When he looked up at her, his eyes were somehow guilty.

He started asking about her dad. She found it odd. Not long after that, his true intent and purpose slid from his lips.

And her heart stopped.

Literally.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except any new characters that are brought in.

CHAPTER ONE

He glanced at his watch, and almost started to panic. They were landing in fifteen minutes. The organization was going to kill him.

He couldn't believe the feelings that were running through him as soon as he told her exactly why he was on the plane. The look on her face was heartbreaking.

Then she was clutching her chest, her eyes losing focus. Her breathing became short. And the worst of it was that when he reached for her, she pulled away as if he were the plague.

He didn't like it. It terrified him. Jackson Rippner, the cold-hearted bastard of a manager, witnessed the only thing that had scared him in ten years sitting on a plane of all places.

Her manicured fingers suddenly embedding themselves in his wrist brought him back to earth. He pried his hand free and ran to the back of the plane, yelling for an attendant, a doctor, anything.

The executive from the line turned out to be a doctor. He ran back to Lisa with Jackson, and after the two minutes in which he questioned Lisa, proclaimed that she had a heart condition.

"Call the airport!" the doctor screamed. "Have them call an ambulance."

Just then her eyes rolled back; her head lolled to the side. Her hand fell.

Jackson felt lost, so extremely lost.

That damn watch. It had ruined everything.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, more to come soon!


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER TWO

Lisa Reisert was dreaming. It was late spring; all of the windows in her house open, creating a delectable breeze. She was wearing a pale summer dress, printed with delicate flowers…lilies.

She heard a knock on the front door. Getting up and walking slowly down the main hallway with the plush pale Persian carpet indenting under her feet, she caught a glimpse of dark hair through one of the many glass gaps in the door.

Her heart rate sped up and she started running. Throwing the door open, she jumped into Jackson's arms. They hugged as if they were hanging on for dear life, until he lifted her chin. Their eyes met, faces slowly coming together. Just as their lips met, Lisa was jerked awake.

The first thing she noticed upon arrival to the world of the living was that her room smelled almost overwhelmingly of flowers. Rotating her head, she saw that every available surface of the sterile hospital room was covered in floral arrangements. Most of them were lilies.

Sighing, she decided to observe her surroundings more closely. Looking forward, Lisa spotted her father slumped over in a chair, a magazine open on his lap.

"Daddy?" she asked quietly.

He raised his head groggily, but awoke fully upon seeing her.

"Hey Lise. How are you feeling?"

"Alright, I guess." She raised herself so she was resting against the pillows on her bed. "How long was I out?" she asked, eyeing the flowers again.

"A couple of days," he replied. Then he paused, as if considering what to say next. "After the surgery, you were—"

"The surgery?" she cut him off, eyes wide.

He sighed, wondering how to continue. "You have pulmonary valve stenosis. It required surgery."

"How did I get it?" she asked quietly.

"The doctor said it was rheumatic fever." He walked towards the side and gripped her hand. "But you're recovering."

Lisa sighed. She figured there was no point in going into further details; she had an inkling that the doctor would do more than enough of that. After all, she was never one to stomach medical reasoning; she had very nearly vomited when she saw x-rays of her broken right arm at age ten.

"So," she began. "Who are all the flowers from?"

"Well, the gardenias are from me, and the carnations are from that girl you work with. Your mother sent the roses." Lisa noticed that he had begun to look uncomfortable again.

"What about the lilies?"

"I honestly don't know. The card never says who sent them."

Lisa jerked her head up, curious as to who was sending her flowers in secret. Somewhere in the back of her thoughts she wondered if it was Jackson, but she knew that idea was absurd. The man was probably the very reason she was in the hospital in the first place.

She realized that her father was still talking when he got up and went to the table set up in the corner of her room. He came back holding a little white box.

"This arrived today." He handed her the box; she was surprised at how heavy it was.

She was just about to open the box when her father's cell phone rang, and a painful flashback presented itself. Joe quickly mouthed an apology and left the room, leaving her in solitude.

Lisa opened the box, and nearly screamed at what was inside of it. She plucked the little toy airplane out of its container and flung it across the room.

And then she burst into tears.

At the moment, Jackson Rippner was livid.

He was angry at the organization for making him pull that last job. He had almost failed, but his fierce drive to survive no matter the circumstances had prevented that from happening. After the doctor had set to work taking care of Lisa, Jackson had pulled himself together and called the hotel himself. Cynthia had been most willing to cooperate once he told her that if she didn't change the rooms, she would have her co-worker's death on her conscience.

He was angry at Lisa for eliciting feelings he had thought himself no longer capable of. She made him feel alive. Not the sick adrenaline rush of a successful job, but the way you felt when you had something to live for. She had made him fall in love. It had created an indescribable need to wreak havoc, to punish her for giving him this energy and all these pesky emotions. He wanted to kill her mercilessly, and at the same time he wanted to hug her and kiss her and make her focus on him as much as he was focused on her.

He was also more than pissed off at himself for allowing his heart to be touched. He was the best manager his employers had ever had; he did not allow himself to feel. Feelings only created problems: situations that were often impossible to escape.

He couldn't keep from asking himself, thought, if that were true, then why did he smile every time he conjured Lisa's image in his mind? Why did his chest constrict whenever he thought about their time together before the call; the conversations and the ease at which words had come?

At the moment, Jackson wanted to set fire to something.

Very, very badly.

But, knowing that that was certainly _not _an option, he decided to remind Lisa, or more truthfully himself, that he was still in control. He would not allow feelings to interfere with his one-track existence.

Which was why he started sending her the flowers. At first, he hadn't known what kind to send. Roses would imply romantic interest if sent by a male, and carnations were entirely too common. He had caught himself thinking that they were given during times of death in France.

_Why the hell do you care if she dies? _He had asked himself whilst gazing at the refrigerated blossoms at the flower shop near his apartment. _You don't care about her. _Jackson had felt ridiculous. It was as if he was attempting to convince himself of his lack of feeling towards the only woman who had managed to slip past his defenses. But deep down, he knew he was in denial. He knew exactly why he was sending her flowers.

And control was definitely not one of the reasons.

Finally, his eyes had settled on a delicate bouquet of lilies and baby's breath, tied with some pink ribbon. _Perfect, _he had thought. They were gorgeous, yet at the same time contained a sort of innocent aura.

_Just like Lisa, _he had mused.

After two days and four bouquets later, Lisa had still not woken up. Worried, he had driven down to the hospital, and when he was sure Joe was preoccupied in the men's room, he had slipped into her room.

The flowers had nearly fallen from his grip at the sight of her. She was laying there, hair splayed against the white pillow, features relaxed. She was the very embodiment of an angel.

Against his better judgment, he had left the plane on the table. Part of him was disappointed that he wouldn't witness her reaction, but a bigger part of him was grateful. He could imagine what her response would be.

The way his heart clenched at the thought was distressing.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Life went on. Lisa returned to the Lux after a week of bed rest, only to discover that the floor with room 4080 almost completely destroyed, and the Keefes dead. Cynthia confronted her about what happened on the plane. Lisa told her, nearly breaking down from regret, both about Cynthia's guilt and mostly about her lost chance with Jackson.

For a month, she wondered if Jackson ever thought of her. If the plane was any indication, she assumed he did. That led to her fear; she was scared of almost everything: planes, lilies, tall blue-eyed strangers, and more to the point, her feelings for Jackson.

One day, she was standing in a music store, browsing through their collection of ABBA, when she thought she glimpsed his reflection on the CD case. She had thrown the thing away from her as if it burned. Luckily, the disk hadn't been damaged; she bought it.

She listened to it every night before falling asleep.

Check-ups at the doctor's were extremely stressful. Lisa was required to take medication twice a day until she completely healed, and had to take at least one day off of work each week and avoid stress. Alcohol consumption was discouraged. She was told that although the possibility of drinking affecting her heart was low, there was still enough reason not to become inebriated.

That was the part that made her angry. Lisa had never been one to drink her worries away, but since the flight, she craved escape. After a particularly taxing day, she drove home intent on a glass of wine and a bubble-bath.

That idea, however, was scratched upon entering her kitchen and finding a bouquet of lilies on the table. Despite every fiber in her body telling her to grab her broom and go searching for that smug bastard, she merely grabbed her purse, turned around, and got back in her Nissan.

She drove to bar nearest to her house.

XXXXXXXXXXXOOOOOOOOOOXXXXXXXXXXXOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Jackson watched as Lisa entered her house, anxious to find out how she would act when she found the flowers. He expected to see every light in her small house as she looked for him. That was why he was surprised to see her walk a bit unsteadily to her car and drive off. In five minutes, he pulled up to a small classy bar in time to see her stride through the door.

She left the place in ten minutes, clutching a bottle of champagne to her chest. He smirked all the way to her neighborhood.

He parked a few houses down the street. Glancing at the clock, he turned on some smooth jazz and leaned back, waiting. He gave her forty-five minutes until she was drunk off her feet.

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After the half an hour in which a bottle of champagne came into her possession, Lisa was ready to drop. Her head felt nice and light, and her entire body was warm. She hadn't felt this good since the bathroom…

Sighing in frustration, she picked herself off of the couch in her living room, kicked off her shoes, and jumped up, only to fall back down again. She was suddenly extremely dizzy. Giggling, she got up once more, this time slowly.

It felt too hot. She opened every window in her house.

Stumbling into her bedroom, she turned on the ABBA CD that she kept in rotation constantly. 'Dancing Queen' blasted through the speakers. Not quite being able to hear it, she turned the volume up all the way, and began shuffling her feet.

She didn't know how she managed it, but soon she found herself prancing down the hallway on the second level of her house, singing at the top of her lungs.

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Jackson looked at his watch. It was only thirty minutes after his arrival, but he somehow got the feeling that Lisa was already drunk. ABBA was coming out of all the open windows of the neat and tidy tan house up the street. He was certain that if the sound could carry all the way to his silver Beemer, than all of her neighbors would be able to hear it also.

Making up his mind, he stepped out of the car and walked to her front door. It was open. Deciding to have a little fun, he climbed through a window on the side of her house. He stalked to the landing of the stairs and caught a glimpse of curled brown hair flouncing around behind the low wall.

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Lisa's head was spinning, and it was getting to be abnormally hard not to stumble. She sat down, leaning her back against the closed bathroom door. Then 'Waterloo' came on, and she was compelled to get up once more.

"_My my, at Waterloo Napoleon did surrender  
Oh yeah, and I have met my destiny in quite a similar way  
The history book on the shelf  
Is always repeating itself"_

She resumed skipping and singing as loud as she could. She spun around, but froze in mid-circle, finding a pair of icy blue eyes staring into hers. She blinked like a doe caught in the headlights, then shook her head. Finally she closed her eyes.

_It's just a dream. Just the alcohol._

She opened her eyes; there he stood.

Lisa's craving for champagne came back full force. Pulling herself together as best she could, she pressed herself against the wall; she inched slowly towards her room: the bottle was lying on her bed.

All the while his eyes never left her.

She slipped into the room and grabbed the nearly empty bottle. Stumbling back to the hallway, she was surprised that he was still there. Lisa raised the alcohol and downed the remains in one gulp. He still stared, damn him!

Resolutely she walked up to him. She didn't know whether she wanted to slap him or kiss him more. Obviously it was the latter, because within three minutes of entering her house, Jackson Rippner was being kissed by a very drunk Lisa Reisert.

Lisa felt so nice. Jackson tasted so good. It all seemed right. That is, until she sensed him put hands around her waist and intensify the kiss.

All of a sudden she realized just who held her in his arms. That was when she started struggling.

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Jackson's POV

Well, I certainly never expected that. One minute she was staring at me like I was the Grim Reaper, and the next she was kissing me. She never showed this side of her in all of my weeks of watching her. I guess it was the alcohol.

Damn, she was a good kisser.

I felt myself drawing her nearer, circling her in my arms. She felt so good. My heart swelled.

Then out of nowhere, she began pulling away. I looked at her; she had tears in her eyes. And they were filled with fear. I let her go.

"Lisa?" I asked. She only shook her head and backed up. I walked towards her, but she started visible shaking. "Lisa, calm down. I won't hurt you," I told her as she slid down the wall behind her. She seemed to believe it, because the next minute she climbed into my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. I realized she was crying.

I hugged her, resting my chin on her head.

I wasn't one to comfort people, but it hurt me too badly to see her the way she was; so weak. I opened my mouth to say something, but she beat me to it.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" she asked tearfully. I wanted to say sorry more than I had ever wanted to do anything in my life.

My arms around her tightened. I raised her head so she would look me in the eyes.

Her eyes were red, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

God, she was beautiful.

And then she passed out.

I picked her up and carried her to her bed, turning her onto her side. After getting a bucket from her bathroom and turning the music off, I sat in the chair across from the king sized bed and fell asleep.

Author's Note: Well there you have it. The song is Waterloo by ABBA.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

The first thing that popped into Lisa's mind upon opening her eyes and slamming them closed was the adamant promise to herself that she would never drink again. Ever. Her head felt as though an ax was slamming into it every half a second, she had a vile taste in her mouth, her shoulder hurt from being slept on, and her chest ached.

She creaked her eyes open once more, realizing in a daze that she had forgotten to take her pills last night. Sitting up groggily, she looked around the room wildly, not quite knowing what she was looking for until her eyes landed on two tablets and a glass of water on her nightstand. Without thinking, Lisa grabbed the water and gulped down the medicine, and after finishing, placed the glass back on nightstand.

That was when she noticed a bucket placed at the side of her bed. An image of two concerned and mirth filled ice blue eyes flitted through her hazy mind. Lisa instantly felt cold.

Her bare feet made contact with the floor; she sat that way for a full minute. Then she heard a crash downstairs. Her head jerked up, and along with it her body. Lisa almost retched, but nonetheless stumbled out into the hallway and began the perilous journey to her kitchen.

On her way, she noticed two very important and unusual things. First, every window in her house was closed…throwing open her windows was the one clear thing she remembered from last night. Second, there was a fresh bouquet of lilies on her mahogany coffee table.

Feeling somehow drawn to the living room, she staggered over to the blooms, extending her hand. Lisa's fingers were almost touching one when ABBA blasted through the house.

She nearly fell over.

Turning around, she ran to the kitchen and grabbed the broom. Then she stalked up the stairs, fully intent on hearing the hollow metal hit his hard head.

"_Waterloo, couldn't escape if I wanted to_

_Waterloo, knowing my fate is to be with you_

_Waterloo, finally facing my waterloo_

_Waterloo, knowing my fate is to be with you"_

Lisa growled; she knew just what _his _would be if she had anything to do with it.

Her march up the stairs was almost over when she realized that the man was probably listening for her. She had to keep from slapping her forehead.

Then she heard a creak from behind her.

That was all the motivation she needed; the next second Lisa was running as fast as her legs could carry her into her room. Looking around for a hiding place, she heard another creak, and was that…raspy breathing?

_Oh shit._

She dove as quietly as she could into her closet, still clutching the broom with white knuckled hands.

The stairs groaned; her breathing got ragged.

And then she heard laughter. Quiet, contained laughter, but it was laughter at her expense.

The _bastard._

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Jackson didn't know what it was exactly that had possessed him to start toying with her. Maybe it was the fact that some of his anger still remained. Maybe it was that he enjoyed seeing her reactions to him. Or maybe it was an extreme desire to see if she remembered anything from last night.

And if grabbing a broom and very nearly flying up the stairs in rage was any indication, it was obvious she didn't. That was what made him more than a tiny bit sad. He supposed that she couldn't be blamed; she had been plastered. But still, he couldn't help but wonder if under normal circumstances—namely _sober _circumstances, she would have still let him hold her.

And God damn it, he wanted to find out.

This was why it was somewhat unexplainable that he found her fleeing one of the more funny things that had occurred lately in his life. She had kissed him and cried in his arms, and now she was hiding in a closet with a household weapon no doubt clutched at her chest.

Ah, the irony of it all.

So engrossed was he with pondering the situation, that he nearly missed the bright blue instrument of emotion based, female-driven death come swinging at his head.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXO

Lisa couldn't contain herself. Did he think he had any right to waltz into her life and start playing with her mind? How dare the son of a bitch show his face after all that he had done?

She jumped up, almost knocking half of her wardrobe to the floor, stepped quietly out of the closet, and there he was.

In all of his blue-eyed smirking glory.

Chuckling.

She swung.

Just before the broom impacted, Jackson turned around and grabbed it, pushing it against her chest. She soon found herself pinned to the wall with his furious gaze on her face. Lisa shivered unconsciously, and not entirely from fear.

Suddenly, the weight of him was gone, and she was almost falling over. After righting herself, she looked up and saw him staring at her with a look that she had never before seen in her life.

Anger, hatred, concern, desire, and something else that she couldn't identify were portrayed in the steel pieces of burning ice that were the eyes of one Jackson Rippner.

He took a small step in her general direction. She placed the broom directly in front of her. He took a larger step. She took a step back. He took another.

Her back was against the wall again.

Jackson smirked and crossed the remaining space between them. Placing a hand on her cheek, he threw the broom into the hall with the other.

The smack of metal meeting wood resounded throughout the house.

He brought his lips down to hers, half expecting her to slap him and start screaming. But she didn't. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer.

Lisa felt Jackson smirk again. And then he pulled away.

"We'll talk again," met her confused ears before he was gone.

All she could do was sigh.

**Author's Note: **Merci beaucoup for the reviews! I appreciate it greatly! Sorry for the long update, by the way.


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